Firewhisky
by ceirdwenfc
Summary: Neville pops into The Leaky Cauldron for a drink and leaves with much more. Written for 30 Days of Neville on the xnevillelovingx community on LJ.


Neville sat on the stool, resting his hands flat on the polished wood of the bar. The surface was smooth under his rough, plant-callused fingers. He sat for a moment remembering his interview this morning with Professor Sprout. He'd be happy to teach at Hogwarts. He looked up and saw her – the woman he'd come to see. He wanted to tell her his news. He watched her at the other end. She was flirting with that man. He was tall and blond; a Slytherin, Neville thought with a scowl. She laughed at something the Snake said. Did he just –

Watching her move, getting tankards, laughing and flirting – it was giving Neville mixed feelings. On the one hand, he liked to see her so bright and cheerful, but on the other hand, she was flirting with other men, so they'd buy more drinks, which they did. And on the third hand – maths were never his strong suit – watching her flirt with other men made him warm and a little bit tingly. _Was tingly a word that men used?_ Neville wondered, shaking his head in disbelief. He was also becoming very jealous and he was lost in that thought when suddenly he felt as though he were being watched.

He was being watched.

She was standing right in front of him, leaning over the bar, cleaning the spot in front of him. It was already clean. His eyes wandered over her face and followed the line of her neck down, a smile creeping across his lips. She had a spectacular set of –

"Neville."

His eyes shot up to meet her gaze once more. "Yes, Hannah."

She smiled and licked her lips. _They were lovely lips_. He was just thinking that he'd like to be licking her –. "Neville, would you like a firewhisky?"

"Firewhisky?! Oh, no, I don't think…I mean…not after…um, I don't think I should. Not after the last time."

"That was a long time ago." She tapped her finger on the back of his hand.

_There was that tingly feeling again. Where was that coming from?_

"I'll get you your drink."

"Not firewhisky," he called after her with a laugh. When she ignored him, he added, "Hannah, really, not –" He paused watching her hips sway and remembering the events of the last time – firewhisky shots with Ernie and Justin. He couldn't believe that Ernie was such a lightweight, passing out after five shots, but Neville and Justin kept on and Neville had thought for sure that Justin wouldn't last much longer than Ernie. _I mean look at the size of Ernie, _he had thought at the time, and Justin acted the lightweight. But, no. He'd made a fool of himself and in front of Hannah no less. They'd each had a last drink and Neville thought he'd like to use the toilet before they continued. He only got up for a second. He stood, and the next thing he knew he was waking up the next morning in bed next to Ernie. _How did that happen?_

Hannah returned and Neville tried to smile as she placed two shots of firewhisky in front of him.

"Two. Hannah, do you _want_ me drunk?"

She just smiled, pushing one glass closer to him and taking the other, downing it quickly. "Go on, Neville. You're not afraid, are you?"

He ran his finger over the rim of the glass, dipping it into the liquor and tasting it. "The only thing I'm afraid of is waking up next to Ernie Macmillan again." He smiled as he raised the glass to his lips, taking it all in one swallow.

"Not much chance of that. See, not so bad. Another?"

He licked his lips. "Yeah, all right."

They did that twice more and Neville was feeling something as the whisky warmed his belly. The crowd was thinning out as it got closer to closing time. He watched her, and on occasion, he caught her watching him. When that happened, he'd smile and she'd smile and they'd both look away, but each time left Neville with more of a tingle and each time the tingle moved lower, traveling down his body. Finally, Hannah called out for last call, and brought out another round for her and Neville.

He didn't take this one as quickly, sipping it and putting the nearly full glass back on the bar. "You're very pretty, Hannah." His heart leapt into his throat. _Had he just said that out loud?_

"Thank you."

"You know," he continued, but he wasn't sure where he was getting the courage. "I…I have a flat just outside of London."

"You don't live with your Gran anymore?"

"No. I have a flat," he repeated, sounding a bit drunker than he actually felt. He took another sip. _Had it gotten warmer in here? _ "Do you want to see it?"

"Sorry?" she laughed.

"I didn't mean that," he stammered, shaking his head.

"Oh," she said quietly, taking a long drink from her small glass. "What did you mean then, Neville?"

"I meant…" he paused, staring into her green eyes. _They were beautiful_.

"Yes?"

"I meant to say that I have a flat nearby. Would you like to Apparate back there with me and stay…stay the night?" _What did he just say? That was his voice, but what –_

"Yes. Just let me clean up and set up things for tomorrow."

She turned away and started clearing the bar of empty glasses and wiping down the top. She flicked her wand and the liquor bottles were sealing themselves and the chairs were turning themselves over and settling for the night on top of the tables. It didn't take her long to get everything ready for the morning and soon, she hung her apron on a hook, and stepped around the bar, reaching out her hand to Neville.

He smiled, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. He stood, and he knew that when he woke up in the morning that it wouldn't be with Ernie Macmillan.


End file.
